Love Song Requiem
by tragicbeauty1991
Summary: When Captain Hook comes to kidnap Wendy, he finds not a child but a beautiful woman asleep in the bed.  He must choose between his hatred for her part in his supposed death and his love for the woman she has become.  Songfic.


**Author's Note: Well, it's been a loooooong time since I wrote a good Peter Pan fic as I have lately become obsessed with Tim Burton's Alice in Wonderland and the Alice/Tarrant pairing, but Hook and Wendy are still my first love, and when I heard this song for the first time yesterday, I knew it was meant for them! I don't own Peter Pan or any of it's characters, nor do I own Trading Yesterday's wonderful song "Love Song Requiem." If you haven't heard the song, please consider listening to it before you read the story. I love reviews, so R&R if you like it! :) Thanks for reading and enjoy the story!**

**~CaptainHooksGirl~**

**Love Song Requiem **

London at night is a beautiful sight. Even in the dark, it never sleeps, never falls completely silent, as if it were afraid of missing some delightful midnight magic carried in the secret whispers of the stars. A thousand tiny streetlamps winking in the night, glowing like a splash of pixie dust against the shadows of the land, can hardly compare to the shimmering orbs of the heavens, but they were born of the same element. Though tamed, the fires of the earth have not completely forgotten the language of the stars. Tonight they have done well to stay awake, for the stars have said that someone is coming. There is gossip on the breeze that is Peter Pan, the fairy boy, come to visit his Wendy. They would love to wake her, but stars are shy creatures and few know their ancient language. They are watchers, not intended to interfere with lives but to simply observe as the ages pass, recording the history of the world in a secret tongue lost long ago to human race. And so, with bated breath, they sit in silent anticipation. The night is young, and there is a hint of magic in the air.

At long last, a pirate ship breaks forth from the darkness, its sleek prow slicing through the frothy clouds as if they were waves upon the sea. There is shadowy figure onboard, his features masked by the cover of night. In his right hand a weapon – a dagger, perhaps – gleams in the soft silver moonlight. The ship passes Big Ben, announcing to all that the hour is late, keeping watch over the town like a stately old sentry. A noticeable shudder passes over the figure cloaked in the shadows of the night. And the stars begin to wonder and the lamps begin to quiver and even old Big Ben seems to chime a note of uncertainty. Something is not right. For the figure that steps out into the moonlight and slips into the Darlings' nursery window is most certainly a _man_.

_Wendy will find a better place to fall asleep  
>She belongs to fairy tales that I could never be<em>

But the sleeping form that he finds lying in the bed is far from what he expected. He had come in search of the Wendy-bird, the girl that had captured the heart of the forever-child, that he might use her to lure the wretched boy to his death. But the nursery is no longer a nursery, and the young woman asleep on the bed is no longer a child. There is no doubt that it is Wendy. She has the same full, pink lips. The same soft, round cheeks. Her hair is darker and longer than it was before, falling past her shoulders in gentle waves, and her slender figure has developed the soft curves of a woman. But she is most certainly the same Wendy who once danced in the Neverland forest with a boy clad in skeleton leaves.

It had hurt then to watch the boy find something that he could never possess, to see his enemy flying above the treetops with someone in his arms while he sat alone in the darkness, a painful flood of memories nearly crushing him beneath their weight. For even as a child, she had impressed him, had possessed a determined fire in her eyes matched only by his own. She had the adventurous spirit of a pirate within her, had nearly accepted his offer to join his crew. Had she done so, he would have treated her as his own daughter. Few men had dared to face him with as much courage as she had shown, and for that, he respected her.

Now, standing at the foot of her bed, watching the sheets gently rise and fall with her every breath, he was exceedingly glad that she had declined his offer, for the sweet blush of youth that once graced her features had been transformed into the most exquisite beauty he had ever seen.

_The future haunts with memories that I could never have  
>And hope is just a stranger wondering how it got so bad<em>

His mind wandered back to what he once believed would be his final duel with Pan. He had taunted the boy with threats of a future that he himself would never have. A future filled with the love of a family, with a wife to hold and call his own. He was too old to court now, too marred by the sins of the world to be forgiven, too broken and incomplete to be attractive. He glanced down at the gleaming iron appendage sticking out from what remained of his right arm. True, Wendy had once taken his arm without apprehension, had taken it almost willingly, it seemed. But the shame of what lay beneath his glorious weapon was overwhelming. Surely, if any ordinary woman saw something as gruesome as the mangled flesh of his wrist she would flee. Surely, it would frighten her, would turn her away.

But then, again, Wendy was not an ordinary woman. She had flown among the stars and danced among the fairies. She had caused the callous, cocky boy who had no feelings to love. She had battled pirates nearly twice her size, and quite possibly, she had stolen his heart.

How he longed to slip into the bed beside her! To hold her, to touch her, to love her. And yet, he could not. She looked so pure, so innocent of the ways of the world, that he dared not mar her virtue. Pirate or not, he was loathe to compromise the values of a gentleman, and to take a woman against her will would be bad form, indeed! In his mind, men of that nature were cowards worthy of death, and to even think of someone committing such a crime against the beautiful woman before him made his blood boil.

How strange, that he should feel such sudden attachment to a lady he barely knew but from a brief encounter in her childhood. Strange, that he who once had women falling at his feet, who had once come very close to entering that holy union with the lady of his dreams, was now alone and unloved. Strange, that he who had served the king as a loyal privateer had been labeled a pirate and villain, now cursed to roam the seas of a fantasy island and endure the taunts of a boy who had cast his dignity into the jaws of a leviathan beast. Strange, that his empty chest seemed to suddenly feel the warmth of a beating heart again.

_I die each time you look away  
>My heart, my life will never be the same<br>This love will take my everything  
>One breath, one touch will be the end of me<em>

In a moment, the feeling was gone, shattered by the remembrance of a younger, more arrogant Wendy. Why would she ever love him? She, who had sentenced him to death right along with those despicable lost boys and that brat Pan! What right had she to condemn him? What right had she to look at him with such contempt when, just days before, she had sought to join his crew? Perhaps, even then, even as she had dined with him and told stories to the crew, she was working as a spy for Pan!

He remembered the sinking feeling as he slipped lower and lower over the gaping jaws of the beast from the deep. In vain, he had reached out for something to grasp, some solid object to hold on to. He had tried desperately to think of some happy thought, had wracked his brain for even a single ray of hope to lift him from the pit, but alas, happy thoughts are hard to come by when death waiting to swallow you up, snapping at your dangling feet! He'd made one last attempt, one final hopeless effort, to save himself. He'd looked to Wendy, hoping against hope to find a friend among the faces on the ship. She could have flown out to offer her hand. She could have tried to stop their taunting, could have given him a happy thought. At the very least, she could have given him her pity. Instead, he found nothing but betrayal, hatred, and condemnation in her eyes. The death chant grew louder and louder, pounding in his ears, until at last, he gave in, stealing a final glance at Wendy, who simply looked away. There was a smile on her face as the jaws closed around him.

In a moment of rage, he raised the iron claw high over her sleeping form, ready to plunge the metal hook into her chest, but something made him stop. To kill a man in his sleep would be very bad form, not to mention an exhibition of cowardice. To kill a woman in such a manner would be far worse. Yet it was not these thoughts that stayed his hand but the sudden movement of the figure beneath the sheets that took him by surprise. She was tossing and turning, as though having a nightmare. Curious, he paused in mid-strike, trying to make sense of the gibberish mumbling that came from her lips.

"No! No! Wrong…I was wrong!"

The captain raised an eyebrow and grinned. This could be quite…interesting…He returned the hook to his side and strode around to the other side of the bed. "Wrong about what, my beauty?"

"Mmmph….Peter….crocodile…"

He glared at the woman. "Yes, you were quite wrong to send me to my death, but I'm afraid you're a little late in making that discovery."

"Sorry! Please, I'm sorry!" He thought he saw a few tears slip down her cheeks.

He sneered. "Tears will not save you this time, dear Wendy. _Sorry_ does not take back what you have done! _Sorry_ will not give me back my dignity, and _sorry_ will most certainly NOT bring a man back from the grave!" he spat.

She whimpered, and he took the opportunity to lean in and whisper in her ear. "Turns out, I'm not as dead as you thought, hmm? I clawed my way out of that beast, and I will claw my way through you unless you can give me one good reason why I should spare your sorry life!" he hissed.

The girl shook her head sadly. "No reason…"

The iron claw went to her throat. "Any last words?"

There was a pause, and just as he was about to draw the blade across her neck, she said something that caught him off guard.

"You're wrong, too." Another tear slipped down her cheek.

His eyes went red. "I beg your pardon?"

"Not alone…not…not unloved."

Slowly, he withdrew the hook with an almost mechanical motion. There was an unfamiliar sting in the back of his eyes. He licked his lips hesitantly. When he finally found his voice, it was a hoarse whisper. "What?"

_[ Lyrics from: .com/lyrics/t/trading_yesterday/love_song_ ]__  
>You could be the final straw that brings me back to earth<br>Ever-waiting airports full of the love that you deserve  
>Wishing I could find a way to wash away the past<br>Knowing that my heart will break, at least the pain will last_

Hook could not believe the words he'd just heard from the lips of the angel before him. What had she meant? Could she possibly mean that…dare he hope that she had feelings for him? But why would she care for the man who'd tried to kill her childhood love? Why would she care for the man who had kidnapped her aboard his ship and sent her hurtling over the plank into crocodile-infested waters? In fact, he'd believed her to be dead until Pan had dropped onto the deck with that ever-present cocky grin on his face. Had the crocodile truly been beneath the waves – and he had no doubt it had been somewhere nearby, for it rarely let him have a moment's peace – it would have very likely gobbled her up, a fate that, having had an all too personal experience with, he wouldn't now wish on even his greatest enemy, and he realized, begrudgingly, that he had Pan to thank for her survival to her present state. She had grown into a fine-looking young woman, a caring, understanding young woman with the guilt of condemning a man to death weighing heavily upon her heart. The fact that she was still dreaming about it after all these years was proof in and of itself that she was truly sorry for her actions, which he admitted reluctantly, had probably been warranted at the time. Wendy, he realized, had been young and naïve when she'd arrived on Neverland's shores. She did not know the full history between he and Pan, did not realize that he'd lost the hand in an unfair fight rather than a gentlemanly duel. And she had not seen him as an enemy until after he'd chosen to break her trust.

Turning away from her, the captain brought his remaining hand to his face. "Oh, Wendy," he whispered, "forgive me. Forgive me."

And he realized with a start that in all likelihood, she had. Regardless of whether the love she spoke of was romantic or platonic, it was quite clear that she no longer harbored hatred for him within her heart, for unlike he and Pan, Wendy was quite incapable of holding a grudge for very long.

How he wished that he could erase the past! How he wished that he could change the circumstances under which they'd first met! Alas, she deserved better than what he had to give. What had he to offer? Physically, he was at least twenty years her senior, though technically speaking, he supposed, they were centuries apart. He was a man tainted by the world, a sinner of the worst breed who would have been doomed to the gallows long ago had he not stumbled upon the Neverland. And realistically, he could never properly hold a woman with his handicap. And yet he couldn't help but wonder what it would be like to court again, to feel again, to love again. It had been so long, he'd nearly forgotten how!

Kneeling by the side of the bed, he moved to wake her but stopped. If he woke her now, she'd surely scream, for she still believed that he was only a dream, a ghost of the man who had once been. In her mind, he was dead. And perhaps it was better that way. Perhaps he shouldn't interfere with her life. It would only complicate and confuse things. He had already made peace with her, had said all that needed to be said. He would not make her choose between himself and Pan or between Neverland and her family, but neither would he ever forget the joy and the pain she had given him this night.

_I die each time you look away  
>My heart, my life will never be the same<br>This love will take my everything  
>One breath, one touch will be the end of me<em>

She stirred again, squirming uncomfortably beneath the thin cotton sheets. "No! No!" she sobbed. "Please…stop haunting me!"

With a heavy heart, he stood to leave. "As you wish, dear Wendy."

Wendy will find a better place to fall asleep  
>Maybe she will save me in the oceans of her dream<p>

_And maybe someday love_

He paused to study the young woman once more before he left, his shadow looming over her like a giant. Some claim that Neverland can be found at the border between dreams and consciousness. If that were true, perhaps he had a chance of seeing her again. Perhaps, one day, he would sail into the oceans of her dreams and she would remember this night, this moment, this feeling. Perhaps one day she would come to understand what he could not bring himself to say out loud. He bent low over the bed, his face hovering mere inches above her own.

"Wendy…"

And suddenly her dreams were filled with the scent of rum and salt and the smoky sweet odor of cigars carried on the breezes of the sea. And she was kissing someone, but it wasn't Peter, for Peter smelled of earth and animal hides and campfire smoke. It was not a kiss of lust or passion, nor was it the sloppy, childish kiss of a boy. This was a kiss of love, of reverence, of a broken-hearted farewell. She felt something warm and wet hit her face and wondered why she was crying.

Hook gently broke away, brushing a tear that was not her own from Wendy's porcelain cheek. "Good-bye, fair Wendy. Pleasant dreams, my beauty."

_Maybe someday love_

Quietly, he walked back to the window and, taking one last, brief glance over his shoulder, slipped silently onto the deck of the _Jolly Roger_. In moments, the ship was gone, leaving a trail of pixie dust in its wake. If you looked closely, you might have glimpsed the dark silhouette of a Spanish galleon sailing across the moonlit sky.

_Maybe someday love_

Wendy's eyes fluttered open, the cool breeze of the night air tickling her face with the loose tendrils of her hair. Noticing the source of her distress, she gasped. Though she had promised Peter she would never close the window, she was certain that she had left it open only a crack. Now it was flung open as if it were the middle of spring, the dark curtains billowing like ship's sails in the breeze. Immediately, she ran to the window where she found a sprinkling of golden fairy dust on the sill.

"Peter?" She stuck her head outside, glancing first down at the streets, then up at the roof, but there was neither boy nor fairy in sight.

Frowning, she moved to lower the window when she noticed an odd set of scratches on the wooden frame that had not been there before. She ran her finger over the scratches, wondering what might have made them. They looked almost animalistic, as if the intruder had possessed claws, for what man would use a weapon to open a window unless…Immediately, she withdrew her hand from the window, taking a few steps back. Only then did she realize the possibility that her dream had been real. Another cool breeze rolled in, ruffling her thin nightgown, and she wrapped her arms around her chest, shuddering involuntarily from more than just the cold. And yet, if the captain had been present, he'd had every opportunity to harm her…

Wendy reached again for the window frame but stopped short, running back to the bed and lighting the bedside lamp. Pulling a piece of paper and a pen from the nightstand, she quickly scrawled a note for her parents explaining that she needed to visit some old friends immediately and telling them not to worry. She quickly changed clothes and snatched up one of the swords she'd brought back from their last voyage to Neverland that she kept hidden beneath her bed, strapping the scabbard to her waist. Grinning, she blew out the lamp and ran back to the window and carefully brushed the remaining pixie dust from the windowsill into her hand.

And here we shall take our leave of Wendy Darling, for the girl Wendy is no more. Nay, the woman you see before you, staring out into the night sky with a handful of pixie dust and the taste of the sea on her lips could not be mistaken for anything but a pirate. There is gossip among the stars that Red-Handed Jill has returned, but that is a story for another night.


End file.
